Unfamiliar Beat
by Hatterpillar
Summary: We all take our beginning for granted in regards to how it shapes us to who we become. But what is it like when yours has faded away? What do you count on to create the beat for your life that's in desperation for that familiar rhythm? AU


Author: Hello all! You shall know me as Hatterpillar, and this is my first story. I've always been into roleplay and such, and thought maybe I'd take my hand to trying a real story. It's just a bit disheartening as I don't nearly reach the quality of writing as others, but it's become a great way to pass time(such as when I can't sleep or am sick, hah.)

So, don't be too rough with reviews, though I'm not looking for praise. If anything, maybe hint towards what you'd like to see?

Either way, Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they belong to Square-Enix!

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For many, life becomes a rhythm, a pace eventually evened out, repeating the same beat over and over, circling within itself. They find comfort holding their composition to themselves, no desire to increase the tempo, no want to tone it down, only an endless routine. A few dare to produce a thrashing mix that evolves and manipulates itself over time, carrying above various genres to how they see life fit, a song that contains no meaning to anyone but them alone. A personal harmony of existence is essential to discovering the truth of who they are. Ask any of these about the beginning, and their fingers can trace back the notes to where everything has eventually led up to now. We often take for granted the impact of our foundation to developing what we have become. The drumming of moments establishes the pulsating needed to drive us forward.

A throb, it seems so out of place in darkness. There is a lack of presence of anything. It seems to stretch on forever, yet occupy not a single speck of time. The universe of expansive space trapped within a pocket. And yet there was another. Now there was a certain sluggish thickness about, a lullaby of almost nothing. Stillness and a further thump. A blinking awareness entered, confused and curious, testing its surroundings, stretching its alert fingers, curling back at the ringing throb that sounded, almost too sensitive to the experience. Coiling back within itself, it waited for the next, the period sandwiched amid them now reducing. Faster now they approached, environment swirling almost as if in anticipation of what was to come, panic rising in the nonentity, whirling back from the train's roars, chugging the beats more rapidly, cornered by an onslaught of sensations. Heavy pressed upon it, realizations of extensions of itself, flickering knowledge flashing without being able to grasp on as the stifling amplified. Like a marionette hanging by its strings suddenly being plucked forward, this being was accelerated, gravity encompassing it and crushing what life was accumulating, the fluttering heart aching to battle the assault. The pulses now erratically increased exponentially, a hummingbird caught in a jar, painfully shoving against the compression. The madness was disintegrating everything. Piercing through this chaos, a light screamed, blinding now a world of white, pure. Calm.

The first breath. It tore his lungs. Fire raged through his throat, combinations of unbearable pain swelled the passage closed, fingers scraping the new familiarity of ground, grit and dirt compacting beneath fingernails,. Arms ached, legs cried in cramps, a stench filled the new sense of smell, as the young man sobbed, body racking with each gasp of air. His chest heaved, trembling with what coughs sneaked among the intakes of grotesque air. A shocking cold surrounded a majority of this newly created body, liquid dripping over spasming muscles back into a puddle. Minutes ticked by, the intensity of it all numbing down, allowing him to unclenched his distraught eyes, the few tears streaking down his cheeks while they had the chance. Shuddering, he blinked, blurred vision desperately trying to take in the setting, aqua eyes gaining focus.

Solid walls, both behind and before him, stacked bricks encrusted with years of grime, holding no competition against the floor which had to have been multiple layers of garbage fused with muck. Flashes of metal blinked, implying garbage cans, and besides a few scraps of shredded paper, he was alone.

Alone. No doubt about it. It was oddly satisfying, and yet a gaping hole sat in his chest as he contemplated its true meaning. One last wheeze, and he sat up, water sloshing beneath him, the crisp cold alerting his senses even further. His arm rested upon his knee, drawn within himself, turning the thoughts at how he had arrived to where he was in his head, blank all before he opened his eyelids. He didn't know how he knew anything. As his sight glanced over objects, immediately their name and their meaning popped up in his mind in a split second, without having to mull it over or really ask how he figured this out. He rolled his tongue in his mouth, thirsty, scooping water beneath him into his mouth before sputtering it out, the rancid taste acidic. The liquid escaped between his long fingers, the drips echoing in his mind as he now struggled to stand, his long legs shaking with effort.

He groaned, back now erect, leaning against the rough brickwork building, breathing heavily. Bringing his hands in front of his face, he inspected the slightly golden tan skin, rather defined arms, acknowledging bruises upon his now steady bulk, indications he was hit with something in a rather cylinder shape, a dull feeling emitting from these patches, when gazing down to realize his own nudity, flushing now as panic welled in his throat, humiliation. He didn't know why, but he knew he should be. He didn't know why he was here, but he was. He didn't know why, and he felt he never would know.

Weakness gnawed on his bones as he took shaky steps, feet clumsily clambering into the back of one another, stumbling once back into the solid wall, those eyes trailing all over for some sort of proper cover, finding naught but crumpled newspapers piled by the filthy cans, and hastily he wrapped what he could upon what his conscious was registering as indecent, as well as drying off the remaining wet body parts. Something alerted him that he needed to get away from here, and towards the end of the passage, sun reflecting off of various objects, he headed, gaining momentum every time he placed his foot down, hand sliding along the wall for support. Help, that's what he was to look for. Someone could possibly have…what? He shook his head, straining to recollect what he could, to no avail.

"We've been wondering when you'd be here."

His head snapped around, hand clutching tightly at the soiled paper, dizzy world unfocusing as he peered in the dark alleyway, eyes having grown accustomed to the promising sunlight, and took a moment to balance out. "What?" His voice caught him by surprise in a multiple set of levels, first being that he understood, and was able to speak. Second was the rather squeak of a voice, cracking midway as if he had never spoken before, adding onto the mental list of questions.

The silhouette of a person shook their head, shoulders shaking slightly as a chuckle vibrated. "If anything, we expected you a lot sooner. Congratulations making it this long."

By now, a faint lining could be seen, but before he could open his mouth for yet another astounding remark, his eyes exploded, a blinding light filling his head as he could feel his skull connect with the ground, a slur of words passing his ears, too undefined for him to catch, as he watched the sunlight at the end dim away.

Greeted by another piercing bright light, eyes split open wearily to a woozy view, a faint beep penetrating the air, the florescent lights stationed above his head determined to now allow any comfort. White walls, white ceiling, white blanket over him. An overwhelming setting despite any detail. A check of all working functions lead him to discover the sting of a needle in the crook of his arm, shifting his chin so that he could blearily gawk at it, a rattling breath evading him, bringing the attention of a man dressed in a white coat with a clipboard to glance up from his nodding to whatever was written upon it. "Oh, you're not to be up yet even if you're doing well so far." This man hummed, adjusting something out of the sight of the one within the sterile bed, leaving no time for him to mourn this consciousness as he drifted off back to sleep.

This had happened regularly for who knows how long. Fingers clasped around a warm porcelain mug of coffee, without drinking, he chewed over the circumstances he was currently caught up in. In moments of conscious, they tested his motor skills to intelligence and everything else they could in order to see he was fit and all in one piece. Their concern confused him, never having much time to analyze what was going on, and from what he could gather, cooperation was his only choice. Any questions he asked where dodged, danced around, avoided completely. Their excuse? He'll figure out on his own, and until then, they were not to burden his fragile state with such information. So instead they taught him how things were to be. A basic survival run-through. Knocking him unconscious seemed to be their method of moving him about, and finally he was set up to be another one of their studies, from the hints and snippets of conversation he did catch. The man in charge of this whole charade was one with long hair, possibly the lightest tint of sandy blond possible, and kept to the plastic clipboard within his hand, a nametag of Even was all he was able to catch, keeping conversation with the young man in the bed to a minimum, and any words uttered hovered over the vocabulary contained in the head of the patient or chilly snippets of orders towards another, a clone of his in personality who also frequented the room, though much shorter, a strange hue of hair covering his face, almost a periwinkle, Inezo was his name, though they rarely occupy the same room.

Behind the childlike structure of a man, was his completely opposite it physical attributes, a hulking man, casting what could the the only shadow in existence in the unbearably bright room, scraggly hair cut straight into the air of it's own shade mixture of red and brown. This man he didn't mind the least, some name too strange to catch up, even if his presence set what few nerves to be felt on edge, but the other two, especially the foremost mention being as he was rather unkind to retrieve the results he desired. This body had not gone left unwounded further from harsh treatments he had no recollection of. Between the three of these, the most words spoken had to be from the subject being inspected by them all, even if his words were often slurred and mumbled.

So here he was, in a small apartment with all the paperwork done, a decent amount of currency under his name, and the guidelines of how he was to go about all left to him by the man he now knew as Aeleus. He was to live on his own. Live how? He still couldn't grasp what they meant, always being so vague around him like it was a joke.

The small radio, a rather crappy transitor, bleated a song softly in the air. He had so idly listened to music for his whole new existence, as he called it, holding dear the feelings it gave him, unable to express his love for it, and now so many songs have become familiar, but still he was unable to place them, almost how he felt now. Everything seemed familiar, either on the tip of his tongue, or simply knowing without an explanation. He relinquished his grip on the cup, shoving away from the wooden chair, padding along the plush dark blue carpet, feet shuffling dully through what sunlight filtered in-between blinds, entering the bathroom. He ran a hand over his face, wiping away the regular morning frustration of the past week, taking in the view of the mirror over the rather simple sink. Arched eyebrows over aqua eyes, sharp lashes surrounding them. Something about his face was lopsided, possibly the lazy expression he currently held, countering almost pointed features, tan skin, slightly defined muscles, and a ridiculous haircut, even to him, but he couldn't bring himself to part from it. Almost a mullet, with the combination of a Mohawk, the spikes were soft yet defied gravity in their quest to stand erect, dark brown roots fading to a blond at the tips, few locks falling to hang over his face. Again, his hand slid over his face, running through his hair, before he let go of a sigh. He just wanted answers. As of now, he had nothing. Nothing that mattered at least. Where was his beginning? The alley seemed like a hallucination, yet there was no proof of anything before, yet this couldn't honestly be. Who was he?

He braced himself against the cool surface of the sink, staring at the reflection with concentration able to rival two world champions of chess in an intense game, pointing at his twin looking back with the same expression.

"You are Myde."

The words felt like a lie, lead on his tongue that fell and could have crushed anything underneath it. He had done this often, hoping for some hint to his bio, if there was one. But as usual he was standing there, a forlorn face staring back into him, as if it were able to shrug and apologize for the lack of response. Myde bit his lip, forehead resting within his palms as he withheld all that wished to flow out, mourning for an identity that felt stolen. Hollowed, he grimaced back in the glass. "Who am I?"

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Heh, there you go. Don't be afraid to tell me what you think, I'd appreciate it.

Still not sure where I will go with this, and more than likely will come back and edit this, as usually I realize mistakes and things I could have added after it is finally submitted. Though unlike assignments, I can easily add it here to my satisfaction!

~Hatterpillar


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